Atomic Garden
by KingRichRock
Summary: Cold War AU! in which Natalia Alianova is the KGBs premiere assassin and Clint Barton is the CIAs most skilled hitman. Throw in a British teammate who has as much beer in his veins as blood and a smart ass teenager under Clint's wing, and you have the makings of the most pivotal turning point in the Cold War. It is March 1989.


**Chapter One:** _Come out to Play._

The weather hadn't warmed yet in Bedford-Stuyvesant, and Clint Barton couldn't give a damn.

He was out for an early morning run with his faithful pizza loving dog, Lucky, through their neighborhood. The air was brisk, but Lucky didn't mind as they made their way down the final street before approaching the apartment building they called home.

As he neared the front steps of the worn Tennant Complex, he noticed his two roommates were on the steps waiting for him, one with a cup of coffee in hand and the other some English beer that was his typical breakfast. And in between them was a pot of coffee, black, and Lucky's dog bowl with water in it. Beside Clint's coffee pot sat the unmistakable sealed briefing packet.

Fury. Or Coulson.

It was Coulson who walked through the door to join the team outside, and Clint decided to click on his hearing aids for the imminent conversation he and his team were about to have with their handler.

"Well Clint, it's good to see your training from the Army never died. And it's good to see this fellow here, now isn't it." Coulson says smiling, dropping down to Lucky's level to give him a few pets before handing Clint the very thick briefing packet.

"Ah, good morning to you too Coulson." Clint said absentmindedly, grabbing a knife from his pocket to slash the seal on the briefing packet.

"I haven't briefed the team yet, so why don't we head up and I can use the slide projector to show you everything you'll be dealing with. Because this is going to be your hardest mission to date. Possibly ever." Coulson said, rising to human level again, inviting them all into their own building, muffled groans about having been comfortable and the gulps from Clint and his coffee pot as the group makes their way up the stairs to the 13th floor.

They make themselves comfortable as Hunter grabs the slide projector from under the TV, setting it up facing the purposefully blank wall in the apartment, normally used for mission prep or bootlegged movies. As they wait for it to power up, Kate goes to fill Luck's food bowl as Clint continues to drink his coffee before fully opening the briefing packet. On the front cover is the mission title, which catches Clint off guard, as he knew what would be inside before he opened it. The name was a legend in the spy community, but he knew some legends were true.

 _Operation Black Widow_

The hairs on Clint's arm began to rise as his memory took over, mentally reciting the kill numbers their target had, the amount of CIA agents and military personnel who had died attempting to capture the Widow. _Capture failed, so now they send in the Assassin_ , Clint thought to himself, eying his bows on the wall opposite the kitchen, debating to himself he wanted to use to kill the fabled Black Widow, the Soviet Unions most feared weapon, who singlehandedly kept the Cold War in their favor.

"Ah Clint, I see you recognize the mark. That's good, means I can spend less time briefing and get back to D.C. sooner. Fury wants her dead, body as proof, brought to the U.N. headquarters in one month's time. It will be the grand opening of Operation Heaven is Falling, which will see the recapture and liberation of the Eastern Bloc. We're going to be bringing the fight to Gorbachev's door Clint, and the President himself wants you and your team to fire the first shot. Do you accept your mission, Agent Barton?" Coulson asked, keeping eye contact with Clint.

There was no hesitation on his part.

"Absolutely, sir. She'll be dead, one moths time. Arrow to the heart." Clint said, resuming his study of the briefing packet, leaving Coulson to make his way to the British sharpshooter and Clint's protégé.

"Miss Bishop, Captain Hunter, neither of you are CIA agents, but that has never stopped you two from being invaluable assets to Hawkeye and his missions defending the world from Communism. We ask that you two will again join him on his journey to help the Democracy triumph the evils of Communism." He says, almost laughing before resuming a more composed and metered delivery. "I will not lie to either of you. The odds of mission failure and death are higher than ever. I want you two with Clint because the CIA has no agents anywhere on par with his skills. He trusts you two, and you all make an exceptionally solid unit. You would be doing your nations, hell, the world a favor by ending the life of a known assassin who has infiltrated American military bases and committed espionage and murdered top Government officials. Do you accept this mission?" he said, knowing their answers before he let the question hang. At least he thought he did.

"Are you out of your bloody fucking mind Coulson? This is the fucking Black Widow. I've seen her in action, mate. In the Falkland Island War. She was there. Killed our Commander to try and get us out of the 'liberation' effort. Peronism was close enough to Communism for the damn Reds. We almost had her, but she was too quick. I'll never forget that Red Hair as she dived off the side of our Cruiser." Hunter said, taking a long pull on his beer before throwing it in the can, walking away to get another.

Kate's face went white, and she backed away in order to sit down and think, Lucky at her side.

"So Mr. Coulson, this is extremely dangerous, has a high chance of failure and death, but if we don't go, Clint will be on his own?" she asked, and Coulson knew that was his way in with the young Hawkeye.

"Yes, he will. The CIA has no assets close to being skilled enough to accompany Clint on a mission of this magnitude. And even if we did, he wouldn't trust them, and it wouldn't be a well-oiled machine out there. People would be more likely to die. So I am asking you two, because, well, you're the best we've got." He finished, not having lied once.

Kate was sold.

"Well, if he needs us, we can't let Clint go on his own, he would die. And that would really suck." Kate finished, and she went over to Clint to start looking at the packet.

 _Two down, one to go._

Hunter grumbled under his breath before downing another beer. It was 7 in the morning. "Fuck it. If Clint and Kate here might get killed, they'll need me covering their asses. I'm in." was all the British commando had to say before he too made his way over to Clint, grabbing the third briefing readout and settling himself on the couch to begin the briefing.

Coulson started up the slide projector, inserting every piece of picture documentation they had on the Black Widow. There were 4 pictures, and only one was an absolutely clear shot.

"The target is known to us as the Black Widow, but the alias she seems to favor at the moment is Natalia Alianova. She has Short, straight red hair the color of blood. She is approximately 5' and 3" tall, weighing anywhere from 100-125 pounds. The Widow speaks twelve languages to our knowledge, without any trace of an accent. She can shoot the head off of a man from 100 yards out with a Kalashnikov. No scope. From the hip. You will not be able to get close for this one, so knives are out of the question. Hunter, we want you running support with an un-scoped M14 that has a dull coat and is made of wood. Can't risk any possibility that a flash from any glare will be spotted by her. Kate, I want you on the ground, but far away from the target. Close enough to see with the agencies observation glasses, which will magnify distance, so you can be a hundred yards out and identify her. I want you unarmed, as she seems to avoid killing unarmed civilians unless she has to. And Clint, I want you up top, running the show on a black takedown wooden recurve. We can't risk any possibility of you being spotted. Use a Brodhead, so when she tries to remove it, it'll drag organs with it. And I want you scoped with no glass because you can't be off by even an inch with this kill Barton. When she falls, Kate, it is on you to secure the body for Hunter to drive in and pick you up at rendezvous point D. Clint will meet both of you at rendezvous point H, and you will all make your way to the CIA chopper at point Z. Takeoff will be at 1400 Zulu time, which, for you Kate, is 2 pm local time there. Any questions?" Coulson asks, scrolling through the four pictures of the deadly Black Widow.

"Where are we going to be, exactly?" Kate asked, surprised that such an important detail would be omitted from the packet.

"Barton probably already knows." Coulson said, nonchalantly.

Not really a specific answer, but the gears were already turning in Clint's head by the time Coulson was preparing his jacket to leave.

"Coulson. She'll be in Prague, won't she? The country already isn't stable. She'll be there to kill the head of the movement to form a Republic. He'll be at a Hospital on a goodwill tour in 5 days when he returns from the Berlin Wall after a meeting in West Germany. She'll kill him there, at the hospital in front of his advisors, the public, and wounded revolutionaries. It will crush their spirit, and help end Perestroika, meaning the martial law that General Jeruzelski imposed can be brought back. It will end the effort for a Czechoslovakian Republic and could set the end of Communism back another decade. We have to kill her there." Clint said with a sort of seriousness that left no room for argument. Coulson merely smiled.

"I'm glad a man as busy as you keep up on current events and the briefings we send you every day at the office. The plane will be at JFK at 0000 Zulu time, with take off at 00:30 after fueling. I'll see you three tomorrow, then." Coulson said, excusing himself.

He left without another word, the door closing with a definite thud before Clint threw his briefing packet at the wall, an angry and guttural sound escaping his throat.

"What in the hell is wrong with you, mate?" Hunter says, eyeing his friend cautiously.

"Her. It had to be her. I knew the day would come when I cross paths with the Widow. But you guys, Democracy and Freedom are on our shoulders. If we fail, we run the risk of starting World War III. And even if we succeed, you know the battles will be bloody. And then there's of course how she plans to kill him. She can do anything. Poison, explosives, a bullet. We may never even spot her." Clint finished, calming himself down before sitting with his legs crossed on the ground, a pot of coffee in his hand and his faithful pizza eating dog by his side, staring at the pictures of the gorgeous Russian assassin before them.

Her beauty was obvious, and for the first time, Clint finally understood why she was the Black Widow. She could lure any man, hell, any woman in, seduce them, and kill them with her perfectly timed movement when they merely think they're getting lucky. Her face is arguably the most beautiful he has ever laid eyes on, with her red hair framing her face in such a way that it was the center of attention, but still seemed to fade into his memory like any other one he had seen before. _And that would be how she can so easily disappear in a crowd. Especially if she dyes her hair._

But there was something in her eyes that shook him to his core. They were magnificent, a beautiful hue of green, but he noticed something was missing. In her eyes, there was a kind of gloss, an absence of humanity. They were dealing with someone so hardened to killing, they had lost the part of them that made them human. As far as he could tell, the Widow had no soul, making it easier for him to quantify the need for her to die.

Kate still looked uneasy, but she was already taking stock of what she would need to wear to fit into the crowd and still be mobile enough to snag the body and be unnoticeable to someone who would be looking for her.

Hunter was taking apart his beloved M14, which he had modified to be a semi-automatic sniper rifle. He was removing the silencer and the scope from it, meaning if he did have to take the Widow out, everyone for miles around would hear it ring out, making their job a thousand times harder, as they were in enemy territory, and the Soviet authorities would be very displeased to have their nations greatest asset dead in the streets.

And Clint, well, he just grabbed his favorite takedown recurve, in a matte black, and went to work attaching a string silencer and a matte black scope with colored range indicators, but was still uneasy about his task.

He went to bed shortly after their briefing and a large pizza, as they needed to be ready to fly out at 0800 their time. But his dreams were haunted by the dead stare of the Widow, who's image scared him into wakefulness every time the dream version of her killed him.

He woke up at 6:45 beyond exhausted, and when he left his shower at 7:00 to see Kate and Hunter, both looked extremely nervous, but ready. Clint put a leash on Lucky, and brought him with them to the airport, their weapons packed into non-descript storage cases.

Philip Coulson was waiting on the tarmac for them, in his usual non-descript suit. He was accompanied by four men and one woman, waiting for them by the small black jet that was large enough for the team but small enough to avoid detection once airborne. As they got closer, he recognized everyone there but the woman.

"Ah Hawkeye, good to see you, Hawkeye, and Tosser." Coulson greeted, using their codenames. Hunter just laughed, the only one who knew the idiocy of his nickname. except he wasn't, surprised that the female with Coulson laughed as well. "You all know director Fury, of course. And Hawkeye (he said, looking at Clint), you know Agents Sam Wilson and James Rhodes. They'll be your pilots for every step of this endeavor. And this is Secretary Pierce, head of the State Department. And this, lady and gentleman, is Dr. Jemma Simmons, who is here to brief you on the technology you will be using for this operation." Coulson said, allowing the young woman to step forward.

"My name is Jemma Simmons, and I am with the Department of Defense's applied sciences division. Because of the nature of your mission, we are equipping you with the new bomb detector we've developed, which will allow you to search the Hospital, from a distance, for the wireless signals used to detonate explosives. We've also outfitted you all with Geiger counters for any possible nuclear threat the Widow may present. Each of you will also being given a high caliber, lightweight sidearm designed by my partner, which will not hold onto any of your fingerprints, and allow you to ditch them should you become compromised. We also have something for all of you." She said, grabbing little packets from her coat. "These are cyanide tablets. If you are compromised by the Widow, or end up in the hands of Soviet intelligence, you are to ingest these. They fit on any molar of your choosing, and are the last resort. If you are captured, you will have two weeks to hold out for rescue. After that, you must swallow the tablet. Are we clear?" she said.

The crew, including the two pilots, grumbled in unison, before she handed all five members their tablets and returned to where Coulson, Fury, and Pierce were standing. Sam and Rhodes joined them by the plane.

"Gentleman. And the lady Hawkeye. It is imperative that this mission is successful. The only way this mission end successfully is the body of the Black Widow being brought before the U.N. Am I understood?" Director Fury barked, and everyone replied with a hearty "yes sir!".

"Clint, why is your dog here?" asked Coulson, noticing Lucky the Pizza Dog for the first time.

"He's here for you, old man. I need you to watch him again. It slipped my mind until we were leaving this morning, so here. You still have his food. And if we don't make it home. Well. You know. Love the dog." Clint said, shaking Coulson's hand before motioning his team to board the plane.

As the side hatch on the small transport plane closed up, Clint, Hunter, and Kate took their seats in the 'cabin', securing their gear onto the equipment racks and buckling into the seats. There were only very small windows on the aircraft, and Clint was the only one who chose to face the choppy seas of the Atlantic Ocean, with Kate and Hunter choosing windowless seats for their journey to Poland.

By the time they arrived in Warsaw, disguised as a Polish military jet, where they would helicopter into Czechoslovakia, and later to Prague, directly by car, under the cover of night, later that day. The team was pretty tense, but Clint assured them everything would go fine.

Boy was he fucking wrong.

By the time they made it into the heart of Prague, they were exhausted and decided to sleep in an abandoned apartment complex south of the Hospital where the Widow would be heading. The rooms were beyond cold, as the nighttime air made it a brisk 28 degrees Fahrenheit. Their sleeping bags would stave away the worst of the cold, but they were looking forward to getting this op done. Not even to be heroes, but to sleep in a bed where ice couldn't form on you if you forgot to close the face cover on the bag.

Clint could hear Kate softly whimpering, the cold hard ground being brutal on someone who isn't used to it. He and Hunter had been Special Operation Soldiers. Hell, Hunter technically still was. He was just AWOL, if one were to go off the official British Ministry of Defense database. Most usually do.

By the time the sun was rising, Clint woke up first, making his way down to the streets to order a coffee from a local café. Remembering his limited amounts of Polish, which did, in fact, extend to buying coffee.

As he waited for his coffee to finish, he thought he noticed the color of hair ingrained into his brain for his current mission. She was the right height. And she was walking the direction of the hospital.

He was armed, but was alone, and would have to get close to her to land a kill shot with his pocket knife.

He followed the red head for three blocks to a hotel situated across the street from the Hospital the Black Widow was supposed to target, according to his gut feeling and the CIAs multiple reports on the subject. She made her way up to the let off for the penthouse suites elevator, and that was when Clint made his move.

Dressed in his best raggedy clothes, he prepared his pocket knife, hoping that he could end their mission before too many variables wound up in play.

She heard him coming a mile away.

Natalia hadn't planned on being spotted on her morning walk to get acquainted with the city before her mission, but she figured that such a beautiful and brisk day should be enjoyed before the elimination of an enemy to the Union.

That's when she noticed the blonde man. He was maybe 6 feet tall, with relatively shaggy hair and a hard face. He wasn't overly muscular, but he was definitely not an average build, from what she gleamed in the mirrors of cars on her way to the hotel. She figured she'd draw the man off her scent by taking her to a hotel she was not staying at (having nicked the access card off a bellhop as she entered) to see what his intentions were. He was carrying a container with three coffees, so he was not alone. He was either incredibly foolish to come and try to kill her on his own, or incredibly horny. The latter seemed to happen just as often.

She turned around, pretending to have heard a non-existent noise, and they both made small, inaudible gasps. She looked exactly like the one high-resolution photo they had managed to capture of her. And he looked exactly like the hundreds of ones her and her KGB bosses had managed to acquire of him, the infamous Hawkeye.

He decided to try and play off the coffee, maybe he could get the jump on her. She couldn't possibly know who he is.

"Well good morning there, beautiful." he started, giving her his best smile and holding a coffee out to her. "I saw you walking and figured you would want one." He completed, offering her the French Vanilla latte that was supposed to be for Kate (she could bite him).

"Ah, so you speak English." She feigned, adding an unnecessary accent to her English, sure to throw him off. It worked. She was supposed to have a flawless accent, and at that moment, the gorgeous redhead had captivated him enough to not be able to use his common sense. Cause duh. What super spy/assassin wouldn't do that.

"Oh well, ya know. Caught me. I'm a Canadian, here for a goodwill mission." He lied, and she almost believed him. Almost.

"Well it was very generous of you to buy me a coffee, and even more to help with the reconstruction of the city after the bombing" her 'Czech' accent makes him very confused. Enough to think he has the wrong woman. After he hands her his coffee, he sheathes his knife in his pocket, still ready to go in case he is wrong.

"My pleasure. I'm only in town for a few days. Yourself?" he asked, toning down his smile a bit as to appear normal.

"I'm returning to my home in the country for a few days. I came out to visit a dear old friend, but came early to see the sites, meet some interesting people. The usual." She says, not totally a lie.

"I'm glad to hear you'll be here for a few days. It's been nice meeting you, Misses." He trails off, hoping to get some confirmation.

"Miss. Romanov. Natasha Romanov." She lies, shaking his hand and taking a sip on the coffee he handed her after the anti-poison tablet she deposited into the drink didn't cause it to combust, confusing her greatly. "What is your name?" she asks, wondering what bogus lie he'll tell. Americans were horrible at creating fake names.

And Clint struggled. But she couldn't possibly think of anything but his own name, so he gave it to her. "Barton. Clint Barton." He said, and the surprise on her face was genuine, as that was the rumored name of the infamous Hawkeye.

So either he has no plan going on in his head for his kill, or he legitimately did not know who she was. She found this almost refreshing.

"Look, Natasha, I have to get going, my little sister is here and she'll begin to worry if I'm gone for too long. But, hey. Maybe we can get dinner sometime, after I'm done with my project." He said, curious as to how that would be possible when she'd be, well, dead. But it was the only way he could think to escape from this without blowing his plan.

"I would be more than delighted." she said, and a small part of her inside wasn't lying. After she killed Vaclav Havel, she would have to take this interesting man up on his offer. So she could kill him as well. After a night of fun, of course.

Fun. A word she never thought she could use purely for herself.

 **AN: Anyone who knows the song or the refferences I make, you are awesome! I wrote this as an idea I had listening to Atomic Garden by Bad Religion and some other Fanfics/prompts/headcannons before I settled on something kinda dark. Casuse I only have one more chapter and I;m not sure if I'm gonna end it in a happy way or not. We'll see. Please comment, like, and have an awesome day!**

 **-KingRichRock**


End file.
